Rane Talonspyre
Appearance Clearly human, Rane is one of those women that people sometimes describe as the type who cleans up well - it's just that her job and related life leave little opportunity - or perhaps desire - for such things. Dark auburn hair is rarely combed with anything but fingers, and smudges of grease tend to spatter clothing and hands. Her eyes are the color of the sands of Tatooine as the suns begin to fade below the horizon; dark brown with hints of hazel-gold that tend to betray her thoughts if she's unguarded. Although when in coveralls, her build is shapeless, anything revealing puts a startlingly curvy, yet muscular form, on display. What isn't rare is her smile, which reaches her eyes and causes a cheery friendliness to shine even on her worst days. Background I realize that, looking at me, it might be hard to believe that I grew up a part of the 'privileged' in the Upper City of Taris. My father was a doctor and between his career and my mother's charity and social networking, we lived a very pampered life. While it is too often assumed that an only child is either spoiled rotten or completely forgotten, I was genuinely neither. I wasn't any different, really, than the other children in our 'scraper and while it sometimes galls me to admit it, I enjoyed a pretty ideal childhood. As my friends and I grew older and wiser - inasmuch as teenagers can, anyhow - we began to become more aware of our surroundings. The trappings of prosperity, if you allow them, can shield you from the dirt that gets brushed beneath the carpet. So many are perfectly willing to ignore what they can't see, and that applies to the majority of the residents of Taris's Upper City. So you're waiting for the cliche moment, right? When the camera pans over the supposed heroine-to-be's face, discovery and horror slowly creeping up on her features? That point in which our little heroine-to-be sees the light and begins to grow angry at the oppression leveled on those that did little more than not be human? Not be rich? Well, I wouldn't hold your breath waiting, because a heroine I certainly am not. It was a dare. A stupid, snotty dare from Megan Niddertak during a party where we snuck enough alcohol to get ourselves in a rich party mood. It's a wonder I'm alive, but that's getting ahead of things. The dare was just to go down to the Lower City and back up - nothing, right? Not even the Undercity, just the Lower. I'd had enough ale, thirteen year old boldness and snickers in my direction to do it. It's not like I was going to get /out/ or anything. Except I did. Funny thing about too much Tarisian Ale and a weak, teenaged stomach. I had to throw up. It was all I could do to hold it in as the lift made its way to the intended destination. When the doors opened, I flew out and tried to find someplace out of the way to do just that. The need to do as much trumped my concerns about the Lower City and its dangers. Once that was done and out of the way, I sat back against the wall and tried to catch my breath and hope my stomach settled down. Then there were shots and - did I mention the no heroine part? - right. I screamed like the little sheltered girl I was and took off. Could anyone /be/ more stupid? Thankfully - and perhaps obviously - I managed not to be killed. That's when I met Kath - Kaththea, to be more precise. I was too shaken, never mind half-drunk and sick, to manage to say much when she got me someplace away from my regurgetated pride and blaster fire. As I laid there and tried to get myself back together, we talked for a few hours and it was like finding a sister I'd never had. And sure - I'll allow that /that/ bit does sound dreadfully cliche, but there you go. I started spending more time with her and less time with my peers. We were about the same age, so we could relate, and I guess found the difference between each other fascinating. Or just interesting; we were so different yet managed to have so much in common. She wanted to be a pilot and I'd always hoped to be a gunner in the Republic. Eventually my parents found out and kriff - things changed. They forbade me to go even to the Middle City and by then I was full of willful fourteen year old stubbornness. It's hard to really see consequences at that age and even now, I'm not so sure what I think of it all. I had started stealing some of my fathers medical things and sharing them with what few medics Kath knew about in the Lower City. Sometimes I'd watch while they worked and I even managed to pick up a little knowledge of such things. Nothing beyond first aide, but that's about all half of them knew, anyhow. My father was absolutely furious when he discovered that bit. Maybe this is the part where the whole camera pans over the not-heroine-to-be and there's dun-dun-dun...realization dawning across her features. Or maybe I was just /too/ willful. Whatever the case, I did the mature thing and ran away, defying them and all that stuff. If not for Kath, I would have eventually had to crawl back. As it happens, my father thought to hire someone to find and drag me back instead, funnily enough. Herk Warden. He was almost familiar, but it was more a feeling about him than maybe knowing him. Probably someone I passed in the Upper City who stuck with me. Whatever the case, it was his intention to return me home but, for reasons only he seems to know, never followed through on. I don't know how long he tailed Kath and I, though she might have. If it was any /real/ danger, I'm sure things would have come to a head sooner. Instead, he explained what he'd be asked to do and that he simply wouldn't be doing it. So the three of us sort of ended up together, in an odd, broken family way. Sometimes odd broken families end up befriending other families, be they broken or genuine. Khlaer D'nu and her twin sister, Khloie D'nu, weren't exactly unknown names around Taris. Certainly not among those that I had come to call friends. Bear, as Khlaer was more often called on Taris, went off to the Academy while Khloie stayed behind and was part of the resistance during the Mandalorian occupation. By that time, we had managed a ship to try to scrap together. Kath was around a lot more and starting really sinking her teeth into flight. It wasn't the Republic, but there were a handful of people who I begged and borrowed aide from in regard to gunnery. Eventually, all the birds leave the nest and I guess that was true for us; or necessary. We struck out for Nar Shaddaa after hearing about Steel Krayt Industries more and more often. You can only kick around the Lower City before you hit a wall. Khlaer is called Doc these days, it seems, from her service in the Republic Military as a field medic. I guess we're all changing who we are as well. We've been allowed to join the organization and are working on the next stage of things in our lives. Only time will tell, I guess, what we'll be called next. Behind the Scenes Um - coming soon! Artsy Category:Player Characters Category:Human Category:Independents